Tuesday
by RonHeartbreaker
Summary: Why the blue skin? Glad you asked! Funny story…not funny haha. But.


Tuesday

_Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh wa wa wa-dooooooooooooooooh_

The espresso machine frothed merrily in the background as Dementor yanked Drakken's chain. Hard.

"As a mad scientist you have been a total failure your entire career!"

"New topic, pleeeeease," growled the blue-skinned Doctor.

"Ok, ok," conceded Dementor, feeling magnanimous on account of the comfortable buzz of his triple espresso. "Why the blue skin?"

"Glad you asked!" replied Drakken, visibly brightening at the subject change. "Funny story…not 'funny ha-ha.' But."

"It was a Tuuuesday…I remember distinctly because Tuesdays were discount days at the Baghdad arms and miscellaneous doomsday device market."

Dementor raised an eyebrow. Or would have, had they not been hidden under his helmet.

Drakken scowled. "Don't give me that look, you Bavarian creampuff! This was in the old days, before the recent…nastiness. Baghdad was _the_ place to pick up all manner of superweapons and exotic devices of a destructive nature. Makes Brotherson's joint look like a Wawa."

Drakken sighed, thinking back to simpler times.

"Anyhoo, there I am wandering the alleyways. Nothing terribly interesting to be found… busted heat rays, a few damaged flux-capacitors… good deals on henchmen uniforms, of course, but back then I pretty much worked solo…"

"Suddenly I find myself off in some quiet, isolated alley, with no idea of how I got there. I look around. Only one little shop to be seen. Not even a shop, really, just a goat-hair tent with a table of trinkets out front and a bunch of junk lying on the ground all around. Honestly, I don't know what possessed me to walk over there and check it out. And yet, I felt strangely compelled…"

_Thank goodness I had the triple, _thought Dementor. _Might need a quadruple to get me through to the end of this…_

"So I'm standing there, picking over the amulets, handguns, and pre-owned personal grooming kits when suddenly the tent flap swings open and out strides the weasliest-looking little man you've ever seen." Drakken grinned evilly at Dementor. "Present company excepted, of course, my dear Viktor."

Dementor drew himself up to his full height, despite its having previously proven to be an ineffective gesture. "Your oh-so-original jest at the expense of my stature is so funny that I am FORGETTING THE LAUGHING! Would you PLEASE GET ON WITH IT!"

A number of their fellow supervillains at adjacent tables turned and stared at the tiny Teuton, who sat back down. Drakken smirked and continued.

"I wasn't at all interested in anything he had to sell and was about to make my way back to the main bazaar area when he grabbed my sleeve and swore that he had a one-of-a-kind item for a discerning buyer such as myself."

"Well, he certainly had my number," continued Drakken, preening at the memory as Dementor rolled his eyes, "so I followed him into that dark little tent. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust and then I realized that the tent was filled with… oil lamps. Big ones, little ones, shiny new ones, decrepit old ones."

Dementor stared at him, then exploded. "You haf GOT to be KIDDING ME!"

Drakken carried on, ignoring the interruption. "With a few choice words I made it clear that I was an evil genius, not an Umayyad-era lighting technician, and made my way back out of the tent. I guess I must have upset him, because I was walking away when he emerged from the flap with a particularly nasty-looking specimen – old and weatherbeaten - and flung it at me with all his might. Of course I was unharmed…though I did get a nasty scrape and, well, you can't be too careful about tetanus….I picked up the lamp, considering it my door prize."

"Let me guess," said Dementor, wearily regarding his blue interlocutor, "you started to polish it with your sleeve, and…"

"Exactly!" shouted Drakken. "A rumble, a puff of smoke, and there, before me: a genie!"

"Wah?" interjected Duff Killigan, who had cocked an ear from the counter, where he was applying a dusting of cinnamon to his non-fat latte. "Are ye daft? There's no such thing as a genie! I'm tellin' yuu," he continued, looking at Dementor, "i' was a St. Paddy's day skin-painting accident gone horribly awry, it was. Wha' _you're_ talkin' about," he sneered at Drakken, "is nae e'en possible!"

"Get over yourself, Killigan!" raged Drakken. "It was a genie! The genuine article! And may I remind you…"

The cerulean scientist pointed quickly around the room, beginning with himself.

"Possessed by the ghost of a dead pirate; turned to stone by mystical monkey power; still thinks he could be a europop star; corruptress of all the laws of man and nature; and all of us," turning back to Killigan, triumphant in his rhetoric, "all of us defeated repeatedly by an ordinary 16-year-old girl! Don't _you_ tell me what's _possible_!"

Killigan stood open-mouthed for a moment, then sat down and sullenly sipped at his coffee.

"Do go on, Herr Doctor," said Dementor soothingly. "This is quite fascinating…"

"Now. Where was I? Oh yes. The genie emerges from the lamp. Offers the standard three wishes, yadda yadda yadda. I was, needless to say, somewhat surprised. But very, very excited!"

Drakken's voice rose, then fell again, and his eyes grew dark with unbidden memories.

"I suppose I should have given the wording of my requests a little more thought."

Dementor leaned in, captivated. "What did you wish for?"

Drakken paused, his voice subdued. "First I asked for a sidekick worthy of me….The damn genie just smiled and nodded. I should've known."

"And then what?"

"Well, I asked to be the greatest genius the world had ever known."

"Zo? What's wrong with that?"

"Ermmm," began Drakken, "even then I was, you know, into the street slang…I suppose I shouldn't have asked for 'mad genius skillz'… at least I didn't ask for phat genius skillz… ha!"

Dementor paused, then whispered, "and your third wish?"

Drakken smiled. "Indeed. The third wish. I demanded of the genie that my transcendent evil be immediately recognized by all!"

Dementor's eyes grew wide as the implication sank in.

"Yes. That's right," continued the former Drew Lipsky. "He turned me blue. Told me that my evil intentions would be instantly visible to everyone who would ever encounter me. And that I would remain so," pointing at his blue skin, "as long as the evil was in my heart. Nggggg. Stupid genie!"

Dementor sat back in the chair and wiped his brow, the tension finally relieved.

"Vell...That is some story, Drakken….And now vat? Now that you have been feted at the United Nations and praised for saving all mankind? What does an evil man like yourself with the _mad genius skillz" _(the air quotes were palpable) "do for an encore?" Dementor regarded the scientist skeptically. "Have you really turned over a new leaf?"

"Well, I've got some ideas... and you'll notice," replied Drakken, leaning in conspiratorially and glancing quickly left and right, a familiar grin spreading across his lantern-jawed face, "…I'm still blue…."


End file.
